Things are just complicated in our home. I mean, much much more complicated than they should be. I don’t know if other people’s lives are like this, or if it’s just me, but I just don’t even see a light at the end of the tunnel. For instance, there’s the organization of all of our clothing. Now, I’m sure that this is easy for most people . . . socks and underwear in one drawer, shorts in another, and t-shirts in another. Can you see me turning green with envy at the simplicity of it all? Because that’s not the way it is in our home. Oh, it starts out that way (and I end up wondering why I wasted the time, but that’s another topic altogether). But then along comes the human tornado-boy. Open every drawer! It’s melee! Throw out every piece of clothing, hurry, hurry, hurry! Let’s bring all of Daddy’s underwear into the living room, so that we can dance around with it on our heads! We find Joshua’s clothes in Tim’s drawers, Tim’s clothes in the living room, and everything basically spread out from one end of the apartment to the other. (I actually cheated on this one, since my drawers are safely up high . . . in my anal retentiveness, I don’t think I could stand to have my own clothes so thoroughly cluttered. It might be the straw that broke the camel’s back.) The thing is, I like organization. I thrive on cleanliness. Are you wondering how on earth I survive each day with a dirt-magnet son? It’s a miracle; there’s just no way to explain it. Some days I follow after him, trying fruitlessly but gallantly nonetheless to restore order. Other days I give up, and those are the days that the laundry goes straight from the dryer to whatever drawer it will fit in in Joshua’s room. Yes, long-sleeves end up in the third, not the fourth drawer. Sometimes pajamas (third drawer habitants) end up in both the second and fourth drawers, and sometimes are just stored under the crib and on the floor beside the changing table. It’s mind-boggling to neatniks such as us. In fact, even as I type Joshua is walking around clinging to a washcloth that came from one of the aforementioned drawers. Who knows where it will end up: on the bookshelf? Under the TV? In the toilet? I shudder to think.
Also, there’s the subject of mealtime. While it’s not inherently complicated, it just so is . . . somehow. And once again, I’m sure it’s my choleric side showing its ugly face, but I’m really in over my head when it comes to getting Joshua to eat a balanced diet. If a balanced diet consisted of pears and macaroni and cheese, we’d be the champion parents of the world. We would, in fact, be the ones who walk around bragging about how great their kid is . . . “Yep, Joshua ate three pears today, and five servings of macaroni and cheese, can you believe it?!” While others grieved inwardly that their children didn’t eat three pears and five servings of macaroni and cheese. Thankfully this is an extreme exaggeration of his diet, but you get the picture. If it’s not fruit or pasta, his lips are sealed tight. And how many different ways can you find to fix pasta and sneak in vegetables before you’re out of ideas? Trust me, I’ve tried it all.
I really, really shouldn’t complain, though. See, there are other areas of our lives that are ironing themselves out quite well. Take bedtime. We go through our ritual – bath, lotion, and nursing. Then I take Joshua to his room where we sing his favorite song of the month (“Joshua fought the battle of Jericho” is currently hot right now), put him in bed, and say, “Goodnight Joshua, Mama loves you and will be in the hallway if you need me.” Then I . . . brace yourselves . . . walk out and shut the door. Yes ladies and gentlemen, Joshua goes to bed 100 percent awake, watches me walk out, and goes to sleep without so much as a peep; miraculous, you say? Well, we’ve paid our dues and it’s been 16 months coming. He’ll even sleep a solid 12 or 13 hours, which has been wonderful for Tim and I to be able to catch up on sleep. I can sleep through the night myself now, without waking up and wanting to tiptoe into the room and check to make sure Joshua’s still breathing. Yes, in this aspect things are getting easier.
So I guess the easy and the hard balance themselves out pretty well. I’m glad for the reprieve in sleeping, but in a way, I’m glad for the challenges, too. They keep us on our toes, for one thing. And I also think that they help us to not take being parents for granted; without the struggles we wouldn’t learn and grow – we learn that lesson every day anew.
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